Light from the darkness
by BoonTheMartyr
Summary: Darkness is descending on the land, and all in its way are destroyed. When two mammals end up in its path, they decide to fight it. But at what cost? M for Language, Violence and whatever else ends up in the story.


_Author's Note:_

_This is my first fan-fiction, and I am not a great writer imo. I apologize in advance._

_This story, if I continue it as I plan to, will likely remain pretty dark for most of it. Currently there are only OC's, but more familiar characters will show up._

_Feel free to leave reviews and helpful tidbits. I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

He sighed. It was that time again. He grabbed his sword from the side of the saddle and slipped it into his sheathe in a calm, practiced efficiency. His paw slithered over his armor, a tired ensemble with sown in metal plates. A grimace marred his muzzle as motion on the fields edge drew his attention.

_'Here come the festivities…'_

He scowled at his company with disdain, before darkening further when looking back at the crowd. The remnants of mammals were ambling their way through the fields in a graceless abandon, reaching without heed for their own safety: Wraths. It had struck.

"The town is gone. The dark is growing."

A dark laugh pattered through the Bond and his companion rippled her violet hued scales. The saddle bags shucked to the ground as the long dragon shifted into a petite, grey-furred bunny. Wearing a light blouse and tight pants. Her violet eyes stared at the oncoming masses with her black tipped ears erect. A smile grew on her muzzle that dared not reach her eyes.

"You should know by now Wrath," she said darkly. "Every day we lose more, it will be the end soon if someone doesn't stop it."

As he watched the crowd grow nearer, he merely nodded, readying his blade.

The blade itself was coated in a red tint that seemed to bask in the remaining light thrown by the setting sun. A soft shimmer worked its length. It wanted blood. It would get it.

He looked at his companion, "Let's get this done Mercy."

She merely flexed her paws as her claws grew in length. A dark expression glared at him.

"If you get hurt, I will kill you." With that, she was gone.

A smirk finally graced his muzzle.

He followed a step later into the crowds of creatures, beginning the dance of death, a twist, turn, sidestep, dodge. It was all a piece of chaos, with its own perfect order. For one to live, the other must die. A simple rule. An easy escape from the war raging in his mind.

ooo

Mercy sat in a field of death coated in filth. Her claws were coated in blood and ichor. She hated it. She hated all the death around her. The stupid creatures weren't worth her time. She shifted her focus into her claws and willed them to normalcy. The she took the time on settling her breathe and heartrate to normal.

Complete, she looked for Wrath. Even thinking about him brought up more emotions than she wanted. He was insufferable, yet impossible for her to be without. Even being Bonded, she knew she wanted him in a way that seemed impossible. It was infuriating.

When she did find him, the sight stole her breathe away: he was covered in gore, and his muzzle was a rictus of anger, teeth bared with a snarl on his breath. His red fur blazed with the setting sun, giving him the appearance he was on fire. His sword shed blood as it flew, slicing through the remains of the townsfolk. In that moment he was his namesake, truly Wrath incarnate.

As he finished off the last of the Wraiths, he looked as a madman might: despairing and hopeful in the same breath. It was beautiful. It was terrifying. But he was not hers to revel in. His heart and mind were a broken mess now.

And sadly, hers with it.

ooo

He slowly calmed his breathing as he sat in the shower of the abandoned inn, removing the ichor and blood from his fur. He was tired of the life. Always losing more mammals. Always too late. Always death.

He shook himself from his thoughts and turned off the water. Grabbing the towel laying over the door, he dried off as best he could, wrapped the towel around himself and stepped from the shower. Upon exit, he found Mercy standing outside the stall. She looked off… something was wrong.

"Mercy…?"

She flinched at his voice, her eyes grasping at his like a lifeline.

"It's coming. It's almost here. We have little time," she said hollowly. Her statement trailed into nothing as shock stopped his brain. It was coming.

He staggered for a moment before snagging his clothes from the sink, catching a glimpse of his reflection. A haggard fox stared back at him. His right eye: a gaping hole, a scar stretched through the skin around it, the memory of a previous battle. The other was a startling green, hiding a war-scoured soul in its midst. His whiskers and fur were unkempt, a missing notch in his left ear. He was tired of this life. Tired of the war, the loss, the contempt. Time finally caught up to him in that moment. His ear flicked as he came to a decision. No more running. No more loss. It was time to end the plight that was his existence and bring what little honor her could to the dregs of his soul.

He dressed quickly, while Mercy stared at nothing. Once complete, he grabbed his sword from the ground, sliding it into his sheathe.

Readied, he stepped up to Mercy. She looked at him and her face hardened, determination filling her gaze. They nodded in sync. They were to fight. Together, as always, unto death.

ooo

Minutes passed as before they felt the presence of It shift into town. The air stilled with the sickly-sweet aura of death. Silence permeated the North, where It was coming.

Wrath stood with his sword in the dirt in front of him, his hands crossed on the pommel, his eye closed, his tail slowly twitching behind him. Mercy sat on a nearby porch, sharpening her claws on each other, a despondent expression pinned on Wrath the entire time.

"You were right," Wrath stated.

Her ears perking, Mercy smirked, "Of course I was, dumbass."

He opened his eye and paused, staring intently at her. "You were the one."

Her gaze darkened and her ears dropped. She quickly stormed over to him and grabbed his shirt, pulling him down to one knee. She stared into his eyes for a long moment. Then she kissed him. It was passionate and heated, their Bond rippling with heated emotions.

After a moment, she pulled away with a sad expression on her muzzle. "Wrath, I wish you had realized that years ago, then we might have had some happiness in this shit existence."

He sighed, brushing a paw along her cheek, "I know. I'm sorry." He spent a moment memorizing her beautiful eyes, knowing this will likely be the last time he sees them.

He sighed once more, before standing up and retrieving his blade, shifting in a ready position. The poisonous aura had reached them. It was here. It was time to die. He started walking toward the beast the entered the village's edge, a dark cloud following in Its wake. He glanced once more at Mercy and saw small smile grace her momentarily.

"Goodbye Wrath."

"… Goodbye Mercy."

They both steeled themselves and charged.

Finally, in death, they would be one.

ooo

_Why am I alive?_

Wrath opened his eye.

_What in the hells is going on? Where am I? More importantly, where is Mercy?_

He quickly tried to get up, but failed due to the remains of the inn that seemed to cover him. He began diligently attacking the rubble, quickly getting himself out from underneath. It seemed he was at the edge of the pile, making the escape that much easier.

Now free, he began to take in his surroundings trying to figure out what the hell happened.

Around him, the town was in shambles, hardly a wall was left standing. The sky was clear and the sun appeared to have just risen, providing a stark backdrop from the scarred land he was surrounded by.

"What in the hells is going on?" He muttered. "Mercy?" He called out, his voice cracking as his thirst made itself known. Clearing his throat, he called out again, his voice a bit steadier, "Mercy, are you here?"

Wrath began to feel for his Bond, looking to see if he could sense her nearby. Once a place of the light and grace of Mercy's soul, he found nothing. A void. Panic gripped him as he began to look around more violently. He stumbled and tripped over rubble and debris as he started to scour the remains of the town.

Something glimmered in the shade of a nearly collapsed wall. He quickly ran to it, hoping to find signs of life. Instead, he found his sword. Covered in dust, the blade looked just deadly as ever. He grabbed it from the ground and saw that dried blood on the pommel. Normally, that wouldn't worry him, however, it was the grey fur that stuck to it that caught his attention.

Wrath's panic began shifting to mania, and he began calling for Mercy again, looking everywhere and finally, he saw her. A small grey form covered with a tattering of cloth. She lay in a crater, just to the north of the town, where they had held their last stand.

"NO!" Wrath screamed as he tore across to town, slipping into the crater next to her form. Grabbing her limp body, he rolled her onto her back, stifling a sob. Her eyes stared lifeless at the sky, one of her ears was torn and hanging limply by a thread of flesh. The claws had been ripped from her paws, leaving bloody stumps. One of her hind paws was bent at an awkward angle.

Tears fell shamelessly from his muzzle, a snarl ripping through his features as he hugged her body close to his. So cold. All the fire, the passion, gone. His scream was brutal as it tore his throat apart, crying out for his missing half. Anger. Anguish. Misery. Hate. Why was he alive, when she, the better of the two, was not?

Hours passed as he held onto her lifeless body. His anguish slowly lessening into the cold pall of emptiness. The tears dried and his anger grew.

_You deserved better, _he thought.

Gently adjusting his grip so he could carry her, he finally stood from his knees, joints popping in anger at the unjust treatment. He didn't care. He began a slow walk to the forest bordering the west of the town. Sometimes stumbling over the rubble, he was careful to never let her corpse fall. He would not allow it.

Once he reached the forest, he then set her down at the base of one of the trees. He took of his sword and armor, laying them next to her, before finally, stepping away. His eye was empty as he turned and kneeled, starting to dig at the soft earth with his bare paws. Minutes turned into hours as night approached.

He was tired, and thirsty. His body was battered and begging for a reprieve. He didn't care, all grievances fell on deaf ears.

By the time he climbed from the freshly dug grave, dusk had come and gone. His paws were mangled and bloody from attacking the earth. He staggered from grave to Mercy. He slowly lifted her from the ground, and took her to the grave. Climbing down, his tear began to fall, clouding his vision. He set her down with a reverence, and stared at her, small spasms wracking his frame.

"I-," his voice failed him, cracked and dry from thirst and misery. "I am sorry," he whispered softly, before reaching up and slowly closing her unseeing eyes. He climbed from the grave and slowly began to fill dirt back in, the soil slowly covering her features.

Eventually, the grave was full. In the time it took, a storm had brewed, and rain had begun soaking the loose soil.

_A fitting scene, _he thought. _You always loved the rain. _A broken sob wracked the now soaked fox.

_I can't do this. Not without you. You kept me from the abyss of madness. I will fall without my best friend to keep me here._

He reached for his sheathe, and slid out the red blade.

He stared at it without focus, a decision slowly taking hold. His muzzle grew stern as he turned the blade and settled the point against his stomach.

"I will see you soon, my dear Mercy. May you give your gift unto me." He settled his paws on the cross guard of the blade. Preparing himself.

"This is your new sheathe; there rust, and let me die," he whispered gently to the red blade.

A quick pull, then fire. A cold fire that crawled from his abdomen and across is body. He snarled at the pain and the whimpered softly as he slowly withdrew the blade. Once free, he fell alongside the grave and lay staring at the sky.

"I will see you soon.".

ooo

Wrath awoke to sunlight peeking over the horizon. He hurt all over. He slowly sat up, pain slithering through his abdomen. The grave was still next to him. His paw traveled across his stomach to the new scar.

"No…," he choked. He wasn't dead. His eyes burned with tears that wouldn't fall. "Why?!" He attempted to scream, but instead all that came was a pained gasp, his throat apparently damaged from screaming himself hoarse.

Wrath slowly stood up and grabbed his sword to use as a momentary crutch, and staggered into the shade of the nearby forest. His despair swelled and grew to titanic proportions until he came to rest against the tree. As he recovered his strength, he knew with utter certainty, that she had done this. Mercy was powerful. She gave up her life to end It. And in the process, it seems that she gave him the curse of immortality.

"Mercy, what cruelty have you bestowed on me?" Wrath whispered.


End file.
